


Stealing Moments, Rather than Treasure

by keyboardclicks



Category: Raffles - E. W. Hornung
Genre: Cuddling, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, POV First Person, in certain chapters
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-23
Updated: 2016-01-23
Packaged: 2018-05-15 18:52:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,508
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5795887
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/keyboardclicks/pseuds/keyboardclicks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>From schoolboys to soldiers, Bunny always finds a reason to get closer to Raffles than some others might think is decent, but Raffles himself has never seemed to mind.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stealing Moments, Rather than Treasure

     “You can’t let them get to you like this, Manders,” Raffles scolded me softly. “People like Weller and Pike will only tease you more if they know it bothers you.”  
     I hiccupped as I nodded, wiping my eyes and nose pitifully on my sleeve before he graciously offered me a handkerchief. I took it gratefully and stammered over my words, swallowing and gasping more than I actually spoke. “Ah-ah-I-I kn-know… I don’t wa-want to be upse-et!” I gasped again and tried to regain my composure. Were my face not burning because of my tears then it was simply because of how I was acting in front of Raffles. It was so early into the year, and so recently that he had chosen me as his fag that I did not want to make him think he’d made a poor decision. Other boys his age had looked me up and down and wondered alloud why Raffles had chosen me of all those in my year, and I admit I had been perplexed myself. Though I like to think myself a much more intelligent child than I ever have been a man, I was nothing obviously special. Raffles had merely clapped me on the back and told the other boys that he knew I would do just fine, that he believed in my capabilities.  
     Crying my eyes out over trivial matters, I felt, was possibly the worst impression I could make after being given such an undeserved chance. I still find myself surprised that Raffles did not dismiss me that afternoon and choose another student, but I am equally as grateful.  
     Though I tried with all the might I possessed to stem the flow of my tears, my throat was burning and my head ached so harshly that it throbbed behind my eyes. Raffles’ handkerchief wiped my tears away well enough but they continued to fall and I began to spew apologies to my senior, hoping I could give some sort of penance for my behavior.  
     Despite what I expected him to do, and I also suspect it to be despite what nearly any other boy would have done, Raffles stayed with me and did not scold me more for crying. Instead he reached forward and set a hand gently on my shoulder, then ran it up to my hair and ruffled it gently. His touch was warm and affectionate; I hiccupped in surprise and looked at him through my misty eyes. Raffles smiled at me, and patted my head.  
     “Come here, Manders,” he said, and guided me over to a corner of the room. (I feel this is a testament to how little we still yet knew each other, as I had not even earned my seemingly eternal nickname by this point, and so Raffles simply knew me by my surname and nothing more. It would only be another week before my friends fitted me with the unfortunate moniker.) I followed dutifully, still wiping beneath my eyes and nose. He sat himself beneath a window which had been opened to fill the study with the warm day’s fresh air and sunlight, then pulled me down and rested my head comfortably upon his lap. The wooden floor was stiff but comforting beneath my back, and Raffles’ hand once again made its way to my hair, which greatly aided in calming me down. I was more than a bit surprised by the gesture of open affection, but too compromised were my emotions to do anything but what my senior told me.  
     “Now then, Manders,” he continued, looking down at me, “what did you say it was those lads said that bothered you? You were crying so badly I could hardly understand a word of it.”  
     In shame I could not meet his eye, but could see in my periphery how expectantly he was watching. Through some more tears and hiccups I forced myself to tell him what the other students had said to me and for all the inane reasons I had been teased. The more I spoke the more ridiculous I knew it sounded, as nothing that had been said was overly cruel and the only part which had been truly brutish had been when Pike had pushed me down before he had his companion left me. Though I still did not look Raffles in the face I could imagine his look of impatience for having such a sensitive boy to look after, and I quickly tried to make it right.  
     “I wouldn’t normally be so upset,” I promised, “but I suppose I’m not in my right mind right now… I… I rather miss my home- but I promise I’ll be alright in a few day’s time! You’ll never catch me like this again, I promise!”  
     I continued to ramble with excuses, until Raffles once again surprised me by interrupting.  
     “It’s alright, Manders, you can stop,” said he. I did, now daring to meet his gaze and flushing beneath it as I did. Even in youth Raffles had an intense gaze, and he fixed me with it so acutely that I nearly felt paralyzed.  
     “Pardon?”  
     “I said you can stop,” he repeated, “I don’t need to hear more excuses. Now then, while being so upset is certainly unbecoming of a young man, I do understand the precarious nature of your situation. Am I to understand this is your first stint at a boys’ school? Were you tutored at home before this?”  
     “Mostly,” I admitted with a nod. “I went to a preparatory school the last two years, but it was much closer to my home than this is.” Again I sniffled, and looked away from his gaze. Raffles patted my head, and I could not tell if it was a patronizing action or not. To this day I can still not make heads or tails of it.  
     “Ah, I see. Well sometimes it’s bound to happen. I’ll tell you, Manders, when I was your age I quite missed my home as well. My mother and father, my dear sister, and even the dog who seemed quite fond of everybody he knew save for me.” He chuckled a bit, fondness quite obvious in his tone and I could not help but smile myself. “It can be quite scary to be taken from the comfort of what you know, but don’t you think it can also be quite exciting?”  
     Of course even then Raffles was a boy to seek out adventure in all forms he could find it; it would only be another few days before I learned of his nighttime adventures and subsequently became an accomplice to them. I nodded. “Well, yes, I suppose it can.”  
     “And it is,” he assured, “once you become more accustom to change. Now then, understand that not only is it your duty as my fag to help me with what I ask, but also my duty as your senior to see to it that you are well adjusted. After all, should your marks or reputation take a slip, it will reflect just as poorly on me. As such, should you find yourself as you did today, I’d like you to have no hesitation in coming to me. Understand?”  
     I nodded. “Yes, Raffles.” (Though I made this promise, I admit that I had broken many times during the shared time Raffles and I were in school. I found I did not want to take advantage of his kindness each time I was lonely or sad, and so did my best to keep it to myself.  Raffles always seemed to know at a glance, though, and I eventually learned to stop lying.)  
     He patted my head again. “Good lad. Now, how do you feel?”  
     I thought about this question a moment, assessing my headache and how my chest still rattled a bit each time I took a breath. I decided the only appropriate and truthful reply was, “...better.”  
     “But not good yet, I’d wager.” He smiled at me, and caught in my omission of the truth I gave a sheepish look back. “That’s alright, Manders. We can’t have you going back out into the world with such a tearful face; we shall stay here until you’re fit to smile again, then be on our merry ways.”  
     And we did stay for a time, listening to the sounds which flowed in from the window, made both by nature and by the boys playing on the grounds. I said very little, but instead asked Raffles to tell me about his family and so spent my time listening to the various stories he deemed to entertain me with. Sometimes, and I believe it to have been an unconscious habit, I would feel him running his fingers through my hair, or twisting a lock between index and thumb as he recounted some small detail with expert fondness. I said nothing about it, as I found it as comforting as I did the soft and affectionate tone of his voice which drowned out all other sounds as the day slowly marched on.


End file.
